


Fallout Short Story Collection

by SunshineRight



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Caesar’s Legion, Legion - Freeform, One Shot Collection, Other, Synths, always the synths, bless up, i’ll be posting quite the amount of these actually so strap in, shamelessly shipping my ocs tbh, this will be about mine and my friends’ ocs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-04-18 07:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14207808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineRight/pseuds/SunshineRight
Summary: A collection of (typically kinda shippy) oneshots about characters from the Fallout Games!All characters are mine and my friends if they’re not canon game characters.





	1. A Multigenerational Relation — Nick Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Valentine is missing something— or someone— in his life, and its something Pre-war come back to him.

Collette Émile-Burns was born in 2040 to Francine and Laurent Émile in the small town of Pomarez,  
France. Her early life was spent on the french countryside with close friends and family— it wasn't until she grew older that she ventured far from her childhood home.  
At eighteen, she moved away, and, by twenty, she was a seamstress in a tailoring shop in central Paris. She could see the Eiffel Tower from the front store window and she spent her days laughing and mending clothes alongside her closest friends.   
Sometime after her twenty first birthday, an American Business man strolled into her tailoring shop looking for a new suit— he walked out with a date and, later, a wife. Edward Micheal Burns then moved he and his wife back to America, and they lived in Chicago together, but not 'Happily Ever After,' I'm afraid.

They'd spent some years in America and Collette's grasp on the english language was fair, by then. She stayed at home as a housewife, while Edward spent his days as a lawyer and came home to be a father of a set of twins, Jacob and Jaline Burns. Life was pretty good, the four of them lived in an apartment high in the sky above the bustling Chicago streets, and Collette loved to write back to friends and family back home, in France. Jacob and Jaline were bilingual and the neighboring Johnsons, Marian and Murdoc, were good friends of theirs and often came over for dinner. She’d lived with Edward for six years, by then, and was Twenty Seven and the happiest woman she could be.  
All was good, until Edward passed.

Collette took Jacob and Jaline with her as she went shopping one day, her two babies were only 4 when she brought them home and they found Edward in a pile of blood on the living room floor. He had a knife in his chest, and a glazed look about his eyes.  
Jacob and Jaline were sent to France to live with Francine and Laurent at once, and Collette was tasked with burying Edward. But her determination to find his killer didn't rest with him, and she turned to the Chicago Police Department for help with her husband's killer. Detective Nick Valentine worked with her for three years before her husband's killer was found and she went from being a French Housewife to being the newest Police Officer in Chicago, being sworn in at a breakneck pace. She endured rigorous training and became an officer in the force by the time she was thirty— she worked alongside her new found friend, Detective Nicholas Valentine.  
When Nick was sent to Boston for Operation Winter's End, Collette continued her work in Chicago until she was shot in active duty— very nearly killing her, and, unfortunately, killing her partner. She’d been in the force for seven years and was already facing retirement at thirty seven. She was ordered to seek treatment for PTSD and requested it be done at the C.I.T. so that she may be alongside her old friend, Nick Valentine while he was enduring the same process.  
Neither to Nick’s nor Collette’s knowledge, the C.I.T. scanned their brains and preserved their memories in catalogs. Perhaps, if the two had known, they wouldn’t have allowed it.  
The bombs dropped three weeks later, and the world went to shit.

For years, Nick Valentine, a scrap of a conscious memory in a Synth thats been falling apart for a hundred years, wondered what'd become of Collette, and whether she'd end up like him.  
They’d received the same treatment, but Nick was a prototype, and he always wondered if she could’ve been one too. He’d asked DiMA some time after making amends, but not even he knew what’d become of her.

—

It was 2290, and Nick Valentine sat in his office, restlessly picking through case file after case file. Unsolved cases as far back as he could remember, and he couldn't seem to find somewhere to focus and start. This wasn't usual, but it felt like something was supposed to happen at this exact moment— it was Nick Valentine, the original, expecting something. And Nick Valentine, the Synth, was suffering— though, he got an ounce of relief when Ellie opened the door.  
      "Nick, something wrong?" Normally, he'd be in and out at this time, working on a case; but here he sat, at his desk, lazily flipping through papers as if he was looking for a particular paper in the same file folder for the hundredth time.  
     "No, no, nothing," he tried to wave her off, but saw the wary look on her face, "I'm just aching for something to do."  
      Ellie's face twisted into a look of doubt, "Nick..."  
       He stood up abruptly, "I'm going to go work on this... case..." he started to pretend he found something to do, but something— or, perhaps just a feeling, he had— caught his mind’s eye and pulled his attention like yarn unraveling a scarf.  
     "Nick? Nick!" Ellie snapped at him, "Nick!"  
      He snapped at attention, "I've got to go." He decidedly walked out of his detective agency, leaving Ellie dumbfounded and standing there.

As Nick exited the office, he watched as Diamond City security approached him, where they usually smiled to him, they had solemn looks on their faces. One got closer than the other, and leaned in to quietly tell him something. It was unusual, to say the least, "Nicky, there's someone outside asking to see you."  
"Why didn't you let him in?" He asked, servers whirring, it wasn't like them to refuse people from entering like this.  
"She asked to meet you out there. She’s... you might just want to come meet her.”  
Nick's brows furrowed, but he nodded, walking with them back to the entrance of the city.

A woman stood outside the city, her back was to Nick as he exited and her arms were crossed behind her back as she stood as straight as a pole. Her long, black hair curled and laid around her shoulders and dangled behind her back, she wore a silky white blouse, sleeves rolled to her elbows and, on one arm, she wore a long, white glove. Her blue skirt with little white dots was pulled up to her waist, and she wore delicate little shoes covered in mud.  
"Ma'am." Nick cleared his throat, and she turned to him, and he found himself astonished, jaw dropped and eyes wide.  
Her skin was pale, almost grey, much like himself. One eye seemed human enough, white with a blue iris and a pupil that widened when she saw him— but the other was black with a small blue light. She was a later generation 2 synth... but... almost like a prototype for the generation 3 synths everyone feared.  
Her red painted lips curled into a smile, "Monsieur Valentine."  
Nick wasn't sure how, but he heard her name leave his mouth in a single breath, "Collette."  
She walked towards him, arms uncrossing from behind her back and moving to meet his hands, which he automatically held out to her. She laid her palms in his, and he heard her gears shifting and parts whirring softly as she leaned forward and greeted him customarily in a french fashion— a kiss on both cheeks, "I've found you, Nick— its been so long." She smiled widely.  
"It— It has, Collette... over 200 years..." he gave a soft smile, something about her was warm, and drew him in. Collette wasn't someone he knew, but someone the original Nick Valentine knew, from before she, too, was a synth. Two old minds had met again.  
"And I missed you, every moment." She had a french accent, what once was thick, was now a whisper in her tone. Her eyes were soft, and her skin was scratched and damaged— but barely so, unlike Nick, who was falling apart after so many years.  
"Your girlfriend?" One of the guards asked, and Nick smiled, shaking his head.  
"An old, old friend of mine." He placed an arm around her waist, "Long time ago."  
"Like pre-war history." She smiled, "Nick helped me find my husband's murderer, some long time ago."  
The guard nodded, and decidedly motioned for Nick to invite his friend back into the city, which Nick did— and he led Collette back to his 'Detective Agency.'

"This is wonderful, Monsieur Valentine." She smiled, "I couldn't imagine you did this yourself." Collette gave a laugh, and Nick found himself entranced as she looked around his detective agency. Ellie was nowhere to be found, and he was a little glad for that— it might be an overload on both women.  
"It took a lot of time and patience— didn't spend much on my self care like you did—?" Nick asked, looking Collette over, "You look just like you did 200 years ago— obvious differences aside."  
Collette chuckled, "I'm afraid I didn't put as much into my own self care as my... owner did." She gave a sad sigh.  
"Owner?"  
"When I escaped the institution, some odd years ago— perhaps after you did— I was captured by slavers. They didn't realize I was a Synth I was so humanlike, but sold me to a man, who sold me, who sold me— et cetera, et cetera." She shrugged, "My last 'owner' found out I was a synth and called himself my caretaker, and kept me like a porcelain doll while I kept him healthy— he replaced my eye, fixed the scratches and cracks in my skin— and he kept us in a large mansion by Washington DC."  
"How'd you get here, then?" Nick inquired.  
"He passed on in his sleep a couple weeks ago," Collette shook her head, "Old age— and I found I didn't like being alone. So I travelled. I had lived in the Capital Wasteland, but began to hear rumors of a synth detective named Valentine. I returned to the Commonwealth, and when I heard a Detective Valentine lived here, I just had to know if it was you." Her uncovered hand met his cheek, gently rubbing against the rough synthetic skin, torn around the edges.  
"Your 'caretaker,' he kept you pristine, didn't he?" Nick was eager to change the subject, but he chuckled.  
"Oui," Collette sighed, "But as soon as he passed, I found it hard to take care of myself like he did— I damaged myself on the way here," she giggled, and tugged each of the fingers of her glove, gently pulling it off and revealing a damaged arm— showing her metal skeleton— her skin was chipped and broken in places, though, her hand was in tact— almost like Nick, himself. She slipped the glove back on, almost shamefully.  
"Well, you're still as beautiful as I remember— a young french immigrant in Chicago with her american husband and two kids." Nick chuckled, "Too bad the town's not as lively as you were, Collette." He moved closer and laid his hand on her waist, letting his other hand rest on her cheek. Collette slid her hand up and around his neck, her other, gloved, hand resting on his.  
Collette laughed, "its lovely to see you again, Nicky."  
"Et toi, Collette." He pulled her into a hug, and she gladly hugged back.

Ellie opened up the door, and saw Nick hugging a woman she'd never seen before, so she slowly closed the door, and let them be. She’d gladly wait because Nick was smiling in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time.


	2. The Exception — The Legion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caesar has one, singular woman he considers equal to the men of his empire, if not superior to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This relationship was totally unplanned when i made Asa so strap in

     Women aren't respected as much in Caesar's legion as they are elsewhere— that much is known, and, even when Caesar learned that one of his most valuable soldiers was a woman in disguise (a story for another time) the incident was covered back over and forgotten.  
     This was true, but only from the outside. One of the most esteemed members of Caesar's legion is his own physician and neurologist, a woman named Asa.

     Asa, herself, was a member of the NCR. A young black woman, you'd think, would've been at the highest disadvantage in Caesar's legion, but she'd been trained to be a field medic for the army and had been 'captured' during the first battle of the Hoover Dam. However, she hadn't been captured. She'd been working to heal members of the NCR when she saw an injured legionary. Decidedly she ripped off the NCR patch she wore and ran across the battlefield to care for him.  
      She was willingly taken into custody and patiently waited to see Caesar whilst doctoring the hurt soldiers left alive after the battle had drawn to a loss. Caesar had her brought before him, shackled and submissive, where he questioned her.  
      'I hold no allegiance to the NCR,' she remarked, 'I hold only a duty to help the wounded.' She told him, and worked a deal that she'd agreed to stay with the legion with no qualms so long as they let her keep working. They weren't her enemy and she wasn't theirs. The deal was accepted so long as she pledged her life to Caesar, and know that if she defected to any of the legion's enemies, she'd be hunted and killed.  
     As soon as she was unbound, she stood and bowed to Caesar, 'Ave,' she'd pledged, 'True to Caesar.'

     At that point, she'd been titled as a medic, and it wasn't until she'd watched Caesar falter while addressing the legion and she requested an audience with him, that she was named his physician.  
     She'd diagnosed him with a brain tumor amongst other things, and promised him she'd care for him until he was better. He took the promise a step farther and promised her an esteemed position of equality and respect and a permanent throne of voice and medicinal practice until she died— she'd care for him until he died, and then for who took the throne after him and after him. She'd be the throne's doctor; Asa accepted.  
     Shortly after she'd been appointed, she performed the surgery upon Caesar and removed his brain tumor— he'd lived and she was celebrated.

—

     "Good morning, my liege," Nurse Asa stood next to Caesar's bed, hand gently laid on his shoulder, "It is early, and time for breakfast."  
      Caesar was slow to move, but greeted her, "Good morning, Asa." He lifted himself from his bed, dressing as Asa averted her eyes, and took her arm, leading her out towards the center of the tent, where he greeted Vulpes and Lucius, asking them today's orders of business and so forth.  
     After his business was done, Asa left his side momentarily to prepare his breakfast— she took special care to prepare what he ate, the legion's chefs weren't as equipped with nutritional knowledge as she was— and returned to set it before him.  
     As per usual, he offered her some, and she turned it down. This was an every day occurrence. She insisted on eating what Vulpes and Lucius ate, and that Caesar's meal was perfectly balanced and calculated to benefit him alone, it wouldn't fulfill its designation if he shared with her. He respected this, but still offered it to her.

      Caesar was waining, fifty five years old, and he knew it'd be a matter of years (or less) before the legion was left to the next leader. Alongside him, Lucius was in his forties, Vulpes was in his late thirties, and Asa was in her early thirties. Lanius would take the legion after Caesar, he was around his thirties and forties... but all in the legion's high command feared for the future of the empire when he took over. He was strong, yes; could lead his men, of course; but he couldn't rule in a militaristic democratic society like the legion.... it was merely a matter of time before the legion fell after Caesar's reign ended. And he knew this— it was why he kept Asa by his side, if nothing but to prolong the inevitable.  
     Asa was a beautiful young woman around her late thirties: medium-dark skin and darker eyes, like milk chocolate. Short, kinky hair she kept pushed from her face with a golden headband Caesar had given her. To keep in true greco-roman style, he gave her white, flowing dresses with golden laurels and cuffs and necklaces. She glowed like a goddess and, as Caesar was the son of Mars, he was sure she was a daughter of Venus.  
      But this came from a different stand point than you might think— she was like his teenage daughter, he wanted her to succeed him. The only way he could think this possible was if he were to marry her to Lanius, but he couldn't subject her to that. He could command Lanius to respect her and treat her gently, but after he passed, there was no controlling Lanius.

     "How's your head, my lord?" Asa's voice snapped Caesar from his thoughts, and he smiled, she stretched a hand to him, tapping his wrist.  
     "Perfect, Asa." He told her, setting a hand in her outstretched one, and she tested his pulse, "You don't need to worry."  
      Asa chuckled, "Its my job to worry, literally, Caesar."  
      "I know," he nodded, "Do I seem off, again?"  
      "You didn't answer my question, I became concerned." She shrugged, moving to stand behind him, "Your scar heals well, I can tell you."  
       "What was your question?" He asked, acknowledging her with a nod.  
       "I asked what you intend to do today, so that I may prepare if I must leave the tent." She moved to stand between him and Vulpes, who stood at attention beside the throne.  
      "Nothing too exuberant." Caesar nodded to himself, "I don't think you'll have to leave the tent with me, if I do."  
      "Very well," she nodded, "Don't contemplate too much, you'll give yourself a headache, my lord," she turned to Vulpes and began fussing over him, much to his annoyance.  
       "Of course, Asa, I'll try." He nodded to her.

      Perhaps he could marry her to Lucius, then Lanius couldn't harm her... but perhaps he could after Caesar passed. He couldn't marry her to Vulpes, god no. He'd despise the arrangement— he wanted to marry for love, not for Caesar's wishes.  
       Caesar wondered if there was a way he could convince the legion and Lanius she was worthy enough to keep around— especially if she was the Throne's Physician.

       "My lord—?" Asa's hand met his shoulder, and Caesar finally took notice of who stood in front of him.  
       "Lanius." He nodded, standing to meet the Monster of the West in his full armor.  
       "Lord Caesar." Lanius' gruff voice addressed him, "Who is she?"  
       The debates that plagued Caesar's mind now stood before him, as Asa locked eyes with Lanius— fortunately for Caesar, she bowed, "Nurse of Caesar's legion— Physician to the throne and whoever sits upon it."  
       "A doctor?"  
      "Yes." She definitively nodded, "I have ten, plus, years of training in my field and have saved the Lord Caesar's life.  
       "Honourable." Lanius nodded, "Good."  
      That was one thing Caesar had neglected to remember— Lanius holds honour and honesty above all else, "Certainly one of the most honest women in the Mojave, if not the most." Caesar held a hand to Asa, and she took it, stepping forward to Caesar's guide to place her in front of him.  
       "Admirable." Lanius nodded, "She serves the legion."  
       "Yes," Asa locked eyes with him, keeping a steady stare with the darkness beneath the helm where Lanius stared back, "I served the bear, time ago, begrudgingly— today I hold true to Caesar and the legion."  
       Lanius remained silent, but nodded, and bent a knee to her, Asa returning the bow. He held a hand to her, palm up, and she placed her hand in his.  
      Lanius removed his helmet, placing a kiss to her knuckles, "An honour to serve beside you under Caesar, Lady Asa."  
      "And you, Sir Lanius." She nodded to him.

        Perhaps Caesar's legion wasn't entirely doomed, after all, he thought.

Asa went on to marry Lanius— perfectly working as a diplomatic marriage, and one for love. Lanius and Asa held honour and honesty above all else, they built a trusting relationship and found their opposing interests created a foundation to raise the empire on. Lanius held love for Caesar and the legion's capabilities, but not the people. Asa held her own love for Caesar and the Legion's citizens, but not their militaristic conquests. They worked together and, after the traumatic passing of Caesar, defied expectations and helped the legion survive and thrive further into the future.


	3. The Frumentarii Secret — Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes Inculta and the Frumentarii have a very big secret and it lies within the second in command.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Maxime is pronounced as Max-Em-Ay because Latin sucks)

  
     Its no secret that Vulpes Inculta (the leader of the Frumentarii of Caesar's legion, the fourth highest in command, and the silver fox of the Mojave) was not always a man of such high status. He was of a tribe from the south of the state of Utah, and brought into the legion as a child— he survived his training and fought endlessly to rise higher and higher in status in Caesar's legion, never resting until he reached the level of decanus, becoming a Frumentarius when he showed his listless bravery in battle, capturing the chieftain and succeeding. Instead of being crucified for his actions, the great Caesar saw potential in him, and took him to be Frumentarius.  
     But, what is a secret, however, is how he managed to see the break in the enemy's defenses, that fateful day. And that all traces back to Maxime.

     The battle Vulpes was know for was against a tribe on the outskirts of Navada, where he lead his contubernia of prime legionaries against orders and broke lines to travel in a hole in the enemy tribe's defenses. How did he know there would be a hole there? Simple— he had an informant.  
     A tribesmen years before had come to the legion, he sought shelter and a cause to fight, enlisting in Caesar's rule, he trained to be a legionary, forgetting his tribe's way of life in favour of the teachings of Caesar.  
     He learned many essential lessons; there is no purpose in life but to fight and die for the greater good and lord Caesar, women are nothing but caretakers, healers, midwives, and breeders, and the great god of war Mars sent the atomic bombs to unite one society under Caesar. He studied Latin, learned the ways of Mars, and gave up on the usage of technology— save what the legion used.  
     The tribesman's frame was smaller and thinner, and he moved faster than most recruits, so his decanus saw fit to train him in the way of throwing spears and throwing knives— he possessed impeccable aim and held the ability to sneak around closely. This proved useful, but eventually tired his decanus, and he was transferred to another— this one being Vulpes Inculta, who was given instructions to keep a special eye on this tribesman as they were usually never so willingly to unite under Caesar.

     When the battle of Vulpes' Infamy rolled about, the tribesman found himself behind Vulpes as his second most trusted legionary as they fought against his home tribe alongside the rest of the legion.  
     The night before, he went to his decanus, armour still in tact (he was rarely seen without it) as he entered Vulpes' tent in the dead of night.  
     Hearing footsteps, Vulpes readied himself for a sneak attack, dagger in hand as he laid, pretending to be asleep.  
     Instead of being bombarded, however, a lantern was sat on the ground and lit, and he heard the tribesman's voice call out to him.  
     The tribesman confessed to him that he'd left this tribe for the teachings of the legion, but still remembered their flawed battle plan, and told Vulpes of a gap in defense that would lead them to the chieftain, ensuring a swift victory, should he choose to accept it.  
     Skeptically, Vulpes mulled it over and asked, "How can I be sure you do not lie? What assurance can you give me that I would succeed?"  
     The tribesman took a deep breath, "I can give you a secret to my life, should I make it out of this battle if I was wrong, it will have me killed; I can assure you with this."  
     "Go on then, tell me."  
     The tribesman paused, then looked Vulpes in the eye and confessed, "I am a woman."  
     Vulpes sat, motionless as the tribesman continued.  
     "I left my tribe for the legion to help in the crusade to unite all of humanity under a just rule— I disguised myself as a man to be able to fight for the cause and do more than bare children. The tribes doctor told me I was infertile and could never bare children, so I chose to fight."  
     Vulpes waited, then nodded, "I see. I trust you. But we will decide on the battlefield."

     When the fight began, Vulpes kept the tribesman— now to his knowledge, tribeswoman— close behind him. He doubted her, but... something made him believe what she said could've been true.  
     And it was, in the middle of battle, she grabbed for his arm, pointing to the break in defenses, and he motioned his contubernia to follow him, and, swiftly, he found and captured the chieftain, winning the battle.  
     He stood to his centurion to challenge him, who demanded he be crucified for disobeying orders— fully intending to cover his ass with the tribeswoman's secret, hoping to overshadow his own error— but was, instead, commended by Caesar, and put to better use, eventually becoming the leader of the frumentarii— where the tribeswoman remains his second in command to this day.

     Her name is Maxime.

—

     "Good morning, Inculta." Vulpes opened his eyes, seeing Maxime look back at him, eyes half lidded, weighed with sleep as she lay beside him in his bed, curled in the covers and chest loosely bound— it would need to be tightened and covered before she left the tent this morning. The camp couldn't see her like this.  
     "And you, Occultas." He returned a slight smile, always being known for his stoic face that secretly broke for her and her alone.

     It has been 4 years since the battle, and now he is fourth in command to the legion and works the intelligence as the leader of the most secretive and... ruthless groups in the Mojave— he and the other frumentarii are the best of the best, willing to do what they must to get what they need for the lord Caesar.  
Fortunately, Caesar still doesn't know about Maxime's true identity. This is the only secret they keep from him.  
     For life and love.

     Maxime was almost significantly smaller than Vulpes, a head shorter, her shoulders thinner, and her frame tiny in comparison— so much so that, when she wore the legion's standard explorer armour, the normal double shoulder pads were much too big, and one of the two pairs had to be removed.  
      On the contrary, she was considerably more fierce than Vulpes. His low voice was endearing and his resting face seemed almost soft, he's a particularly handsome man, and he knew so. On the other hand, Maxime had sharp features, and her tone changed often— defaulting to a deep voice to conceal her identity— and it was not uncommon for legionary soldiers to share stories of the 'frightening second frumentarius’ sneaking upon them when they slacked off. Maxime took her job seriously and did very well as the legion's informant and infiltration division. She and Vulpes worked as a team and always completed their missions, no matter the costs.  
     However, there was always one cost that could cause hesitation, for Vulpes, at least. He could never complete a mission if it meant hurting or losing Maxime— after all these years, he'd fallen in love.

      Vulpes sat up and ran his hand over Maxime's short shaved hair, she bristled at the touch and laughed a bit, "How did you sleep, my second?" He asked, fingers tracing her jaw, settling below her chin.  
"Just fine— and you, my fox?" She moved to lay her legs across his lap, resting on one hand on the bed, the other reaching to rest across his shoulder and about his neck.  
     "Perfect." He remarked, "We've much to attend to today, Caesar asked us to speak with the profligate we captured with the chip—"  
     "Mister Gecko," Maxime closed her eyes, "We, as in, we frumentarii? Or We, to be, you and I?"  
     Vulpes gritted his teeth, "Unfortunately, We, to be, you and I— but he also asked me to traverse to check upon the living courier, therefore, you'll need to interrogate him yourself." Vulpes couldn't stand when Benny spoke to Maxime— he became filled with anxiety and called her 'baby,' often. Vulpes wondered if he knew of her secret identity, but there was no way he could be that observant yet so... dumb.  
     "Understood," Maxime stood up from the bed, stretching and pulling on her chest binding, unwrapping it fully before rewrapping herself, gracefully tightening to cover her chest.  
     Vulpes watched in silence, sighing to himself— she was beautiful, especially in his eyes, but he also wished she didn't have to hide it... yet, he couldn't speak against Caesar or his teachings, it'd put both of them in danger.  
      She finished binding her chest and put on the rest of her armor, smiling to Vulpes one last time before leaving the tent, "Until tonight, my desert fox."  
     He nodded to her, watching her leave as he muttered, mostly to himself, "Until tonight, my love."

     Vulpes returned to his tent to find Maxime laying in his bed, reading by lamplight, chest unbound— to this, he chuckled, "We tell Caesar you sleep in your tent, yet, I'm surprised he's never asked about you always in mine."  
     Maxime looked up from her book, laughing, "Yes, though the legion thinks we conspire often for Frumentarii sake— a perk of being disguised as your second in command, desert fox."  
      "How was your interrogation?"  
      "Fine. I find the profligate horrendously annoying, he refuses to share information and, what he does, is indecipherable." Maxime laid her book down, "One of my worst interrogations to date."  
     "My other half," Vulpes removed his vexillarius helmet, moving to the bed to place a hand on her cheek, "Illegitimi Non Carborundum, the profligate is insignificant and unworthy of your worries, right?"  
     Maxime sighed, "Right. Thank you, Vulpes. But, enough about me, how was your day?"  
     Vulpes gave a light shrug, "I found the courier to travel around all day, dragging his companions behind him and running amok across New Vegas." He began to remove his armor, only to find his hands landing upon smaller ones. He smiled to himself and let Maxime remove his armor, piece by piece, until he was left in the under cloth, he turned to meet Maxime, who wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his chest, "It grows late, my second."  
     "It does, my leader." She nodded, and moved to lay on the bed, motioning for Vulpes to follow.  
     He laughed, then nodded, following her under the thin cover, pulling her close— she generated heat on the cold nights, and it warmed him immensely. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Noctem."  
     "Noctem." Maxime whispered back.

     The tent opened, early in the morning, and Vulpes sat up immediately— partially to be alert, partially to hide Maxime in his bed. He relaxed upon seeing the intruder, knowing he could trust them with such a sight.  
     It was only a Frumentarius, who bid him good morning before informing him that Caesar had not given him, nor any of the frumentarii, any tasks today, 'as a reward for the information received by Maxime the day before,' and Vulpes nodded.  
     "Good, good— take your break day as you will. Check in with me before you attempt anything you need permission for." Vulpes waved him off, and waited for him to leave before laying himself back down.  
     Maxime stirred at him laying his arm across her, "Is there an issue, my fox?"  
     "No, just one of the men informing me that we have no assignments today," he whispered lowly, laying his head against hers, "In part to your efforts with the profligate yesterday, we are being rewarded."  
Maxime smiled, laying her head into the crook of his neck, "Then we may sleep more,"  
     Vulpes ran his hand across the back of her head, feeling the bristles of hair, "Or we may travel to the Strip and amongst the wicked profligates."  
     "Perhaps..." Maxime nodded, "It sounds... entirely fun."  
     "Rest, my second— I'll run some talk by Caesar and talk around camp— we can decide when I return, yes?" Vulpes climbed from the bed, running his thumb across her cheek.  
     "I'll be ready upon your arrival, my leader." Maxime nodded into his hand.  
     Vulpes pressed a kiss to her cheek, lowering her tired head to let her rest again as he got ready for the day, armor in place and walking to meet Caesar.

     When he arrived to Caesar's tent, the sight before him was concerning— a frumentarius man of his stood before Caesar on bent knee, head bowed, and Caesar nodded approvingly— grinning upon seeing Vulpes, Caesar stood to meet him, "Well, Vulpes— it seems you may have new order of power amongst your frumentarius."  
     The frumentarius stood from beside Caesar— a young man named Atilius, who often disobeyed Vulpes— and sneered in his direction. Of the many frumentarii men who knew of Maxime's secret, Atilius was not one, and couldn't understand why Vulpes favoured 'him' so much.  
      "Atilius?" Vulpes growled, "What is the meaning of this?"  
     "Little Atilius, here, has come to request a duel with Maxime in the arena, he seems to think he can dethrone your second in command in bare combat. I dare say your trusted frumentarius can prove him wrong, but, Atilius is a strong fellow." Caesar smiled a thin, wry smile, clapping a hand on the frumentarius' shoulder, "It'll be a show."  
     "This is highly inappropriate— Maxime is more than capable of being the second frumentarius— Atilius is inexperienced and unequipped— He's—" Vulpes stammered for an excuse to stop this, but Caesar only shook his head.  
     "Nonsense, it is the way of the legion to fight for your position. Atilius wishes to fight, Maxime must retaliate— now, go, fetch him. Otho will ready the arena in two hours." Caesar smiled, shooing Atilius and Vulpes on.  
     As soon as Vulpes was outside the tent with Atilius in front of him, he snatched him by the cloth of his armor, "You will call this off," he demanded, teeth gritting and anger coursing through him.  
     Atilius only smiled, "Nonsense. Are you afraid to lose your little second in command?"

—

     "Maxime, my second— Maxime— Max!" Vulpes shook the girl awake, and she sleepily lifted her head and yawned.  
     "What is it, my fox? Must you be so loud?" She rubbed at her eye, looking lazily to Vulpes. She took notice at once of the panic on his (usually stoic) face, and shot wide awake, "My leader— whats wrong? Why do you panic so?"  
     He placed a hand on either side of her face, "You need to get ready for battle, Atilius challenges you in the arena for your title."  
     "Atilius? That no good rat..." Maxime closed her eyes, submerging herself in thought, hands gently settling on Vulpes' wrists.  
     "What will we do? I cannot lose you, my second." Vulpes' voice very nearly shook, a slight tremble in his tone.  
     To anyone else, he would've sounded as monotonous as usual, but Maxime caught on immediately, "Fear not, my desert fox," she opened her eyes, a mischievous twinkle, "I accept his challenge."  
     Vulpes froze, and his blood ran cold— he could barely move as Maxime slipped from his grip and began to tighten her chest bindings, pulling on her armor, and slipping from the tent.  
     Vulpes clambered out to follow her, only to walk behind her, aching to feel her hand for fear it might be the last time it was warm. Maxime soldiered on ahead of him, cracking her knuckles and grinning fearlessly as she marched to the arena.

      Otho stood beside Atilius, who spoke highly of himself as if he'd already won the battle, that was, until he saw Maxime crossing towards him with Vulpes trailing behind.  
      Atilius shut up immediately, jaw clenching as Maxime marched up to him and stood chest to chest, looking up into his eyes with a cocky gaze, "I accept your challenge, Atilius— what are the terms, then?"  
     Atilius smirked, "No armor, no weapons, arena match to the death— A challenge for second frumentarius."  
     Maxime grinned, "Perfect," 'he' turned to Otho, "Ready the arena, we fight in twenty minutes."  
     Otho paused, "B-But— the match is not set to commence for another hour and a half—"  
     "How unfortunate," Maxime raised an eyebrow, "Well, a change of plans— it happens in twenty minutes. Make sure the Lord Caesar gets a good seat, yes?" And without waiting for an answer, Maxime turned on heel and marched away.  
     "He's a frightening one," Otho shuddered, looking to Vulpes, "No wondering why he's your second."  
      "Not for much longer," Atilius scowled, "Maxime is all talk, I think, his skills desire improvement."  
     "Mars be on your behalf then," Vulpes looked to Atilius, glare harsher than the mojave sun, "Because Maxime needs no god's blessing to win in hand to hand combat."

     The legion crowded around the arena, this was a spectacle for all to behold— normally the fights would be between slaves and young recruits, sometimes the occasional dominance battle for a higher spot, but nobody had ever seen two frumentarii go head to head.  
     Frumentarii were the cunning and sly, not known for their battle strengths unless it was backhandedly slaughtering their opponents easily. Furthermore, nobody had ever seen Vulpes this nervous, and that was a sight in itself— he skittered nervously, dancing around speaking and kept his eyes moving between Maxime and Atilius before the fight had even started.  
Everyone had chosen their sides before the two fighters had even entered the arena; everyone knew who they sided with over the other.  
      Maxime was the crowd favourite, 'he' was one of the legion's most beloved, and had been, since he first joined as a young tribesman. Very few knew of the hand he in the battle of Vulpes' fame, but those who did only supported Maxime more.  
      Atilius, on the other hand, was beloved by only few. He was young and reckless, and many wondered how he became a frumentarius in the first place. He often spoke out of turn and skipped training, thinking he was better than any other member of the legion. Nobody admired him like they admired Maxime— and perhaps thats the true reason he challenged the second frumentarius. He wanted the respect and the attention of the legion, and he was determined to receive it.

     Atilius entered the arena first, legion members yelled and banged on the metal arena walls as he walked out in the simple cloths. He was tall, almost six feet, with ice blue eyes and blond hair, pale skin, and a frame that was more fit for a centurion's armor than the bare rags he wore, let alone the exploratory armor the frumentarii usually wore.  
     After Atilius took his spot to the right of the arena door, Maxime walked out. The crowd roared upon the sight of her and she smiled, raising a fist to them. She stood much shorter than Atilius, only meeting his armpit. Her frame was thinner and her skin tanner. Brown eyes filled with self assurance and dark, cropped hair had just been cut before she walked to the arena (though, this was something only Vulpes noticed.)  
     They stood across from eachother in the arena, wearing only loose fitting rags for clothing, barehanded and ready to fight. Atilius stood in a fighters stance, knees slightly bent, fists before him with a scowl on his face. Maxime was quite the opposite, standing straight as a pole and with a malicious smile, hands behind back and eyes narrowed.  
     Caesar leaned to Vulpes, quietly muttering, "I hope your man knows what he's doing. He doesn't look like he'll put up much of a fight."  
     "Maxime is the best of my men, he has tricks up His sleeves," Vulpes muttered back, nodding, but, still, his eyes danced back and forth between his two frumentarii in the arena.

     Maxime looked across the field at her opponent, smiling, "There's still a chance to surrender with your life, Atilius," she began a slow stalking pace along the perimeter of the arena, touching the fingertips of the cheering men that witnessed the fight.  
     "Now, why would I do that? Everyone knows the legion doesn't accept cowards... or women." Atilius smirked, walking around opposite Maxime, keeping the distance between them.  
     "Of course they don't," she still grinned, shaking her head, "So make your piece with Mars before I rip you limb from limb."  
     "You're a comedian." Atilius gave a laugh before he ran and lunged at Maxime, who merely sidestepped him and rammed her elbow into his back, dropping him into the arena's dirt floor.  
      He rolled away from her as she tried to drop her heel into his back, "You're too cocky, Atilius, maybe if you didn't skip training, you wouldn't have fallen." Atilius quickly got up from the dirt and squared off again, only a few feet from Maxime, now.  
     Maxime put one foot behind her, before launching off her heel, moving beside him and driving her fist into his gut, dropping him onto his knees as he huffed and puffed, "Y-You— you witch—"  
     "A compliment," she wrapped one arm around his neck, grabbing and locking herself into a hold around his neck.  
     Atilius struggled to stand, and, when he regained his footing, slammed her into the metal wall, the sheet metal cutting her arm as she hissed. Maxime's grip loosened and Atilius leaned forward, using Maxime's weight against her and forcing her from the hold on his neck, dropping her onto the dirt floor and moving to reach for her rags, grabbing on and driving his fist towards her cheek.  
     She let it hit her, and when he drew back a second time, she captured his fist and redirected it to the side of her head, forcing him to miss. The force he put behind it made him lean forward, just enough for her to slam her head into his. This stunned him for a moment and she threw her own fist towards his neck. His body clambered backwards at the pain, letting her go.  
     Maxime gained her footing, standing up for barely a moment before launching at Atilius and driving her knee into his chest as he still sat on the dirt floor. This knocked him flat, and she moved to pin him, putting her knees on each of his arms, she threw one left punch, then a right, then another left.  
     The crowd screamed and banged on the metal sheet walls. Caesar sat, almost boredly, in his seat. To his left was Vulpes, who sat on the edge of his seat, and to Caesar's right was Lucius, who tapped the arms of his chair in a focused manner.  
     Maxime backed off of Atilius, and Vulpes could assess the damages. She had a cut along the back of her left arm and her cheek was swelling, sweat beaded her brow and she breathed heavily. She, seemingly, had cut a couple of her knuckles, but was otherwise fine.  
     Atilius, however, moved sluggishly and gripped his stomach. His lip was split, he had a cut along his cheek, and he walked with a slight limp, bracing himself on the metal wall. His chest heaved and he grew paler than what Vulpes thought possible.  
Maxime straightened herself, "You can submit, Atilius, there's no need for death."  
     "It won't be my death, Maxime." He yelled across to her, and barreled at her with an alarming speed, shoulder forward.  
      Maxime had no time to react, and Atilius caught her with his shoulder, throwing her towards the sheet metal wall and pinning her. Her head slammed against the wall and her vision blackened for a second. She struggled and he merely dragged her along the wall, cutting her leg and back— rags splitting along the back and exposing the bottom of the bandage wrappings she used to bind her chest.  
     Atilius kept his grappling hold on Maxime, and threw her into the ground— he slammed his foot on her leg, and she let out a shriek. He'd effectively crippled her right leg, and he took her up again, this time by her back and neck and pinned her against the wall.  
     Atilius came to a low point in the wall, one lined with barbed wire, and turned Maxime so she faced it. Atilius held her by the head and began to force her into it, she barely caught herself and used the sides to keep him from shoving her face into the barbed wire. Any closer, and it'd catch her in the eyes and throat. She pushed against him with everything she had, before she gave him a bit of slack and ducked her head right, letting the barbed wire slice her cheek open, and she angled her elbow back into his stomach, giving her enough time to slip from his grasp and slide behind him, driving all her weight into his back to send him toppling into the wall as she scrambled back to the opposite side of the arena.  
     Vulpes had stood by now, and Alerio held him by the shoulders and kept him grounded. He would've tried to jump into the arena to stop the fight hundreds of times over by now, and, unlike Caesar, Alerio and the other frumentarii knew why.  
     Maxime pushed herself up, using the wall to brace herself as Atilius stood and yelled a battle cry that shook the arena, and charged again. This time, Maxime had enough time to dodge and scrambled out of the way, letting Atilius hit the wall. She moved, again, to try and put distance between her and her opponent, trying to formulate a plan.  
     Atilius recovered in almost no time, and began to march towards her, Maxime pressed herself against the wall, if only to prolong the inevitable, when suddenly and idea shot through her head. Vulpes saw it, and he knew she had suddenly regained the advantage in this battle.  
Maxime let Atilius grab her by the throat, crushing her trachea as she struggled to breathe. Her plan had gone awry when she began to scrape at Atilius' hand enclosed around her neck, slowly going limp.  
Atilius smirked and dropped her onto the dirt floor, and Vulpes shot from where he stood, Alerio only barely grasped the lip of his armor and pulled him back, keeping Vulpes from trying to kill Atilius himself.  
Atilius stepped over Maxime's limp body and held his arms up, hearing the silence of the stunned arena, which slowly then broke into a roar of cheers, and, suddenly, Atilius found himself hurtling towards the floor.  
Maxime flipped Atilius over and stood on his chest, breathing heavily and quickly, and she placed her foot on his neck, pinning him to the ground as he struggled. She looked to Caesar, who now smiled and sat on the edge of his seat, watch as Atilius struggled, then gave up, submitting to Maxime.  
Caesar stuck his hand out, giving a telltale thumbs down— Maxime had given him several chances to submit, and now it was only fair he die.  
Maxime stooped down, about to choke Atilius into a peaceful death, until Atilius reached into the rags she wore, and tore off her chest binding.  
In a sudden, rage induced state, Maxime struck her hand into Atilius' chest, and drew his still beating heart from his ribcage. Blood covered her arm and hand, it spurted from his chest, coating her clothes and face. It mixed with her own blood, and she let out a war cry.  
The arena cheered louder, screaming at the tops of their lungs. Yet, Caesar sat motionless, his eyes fixed on the bindings in Atilius' limp hand. Vulpes cheered and, finally, Alerio had let him go. He knew better than to leave Caesar's side, and it took all of the restraint in his body not to go fawn over Maxime. Yet, even Lucius was, seemingly, too entranced by her victory to notice what Caesar was seeing.  
It wasn't until Caesar stood up that the cheers died down, and Maxime still stood over the corpse of her opponent, blood dripping from her hands and the heart in her palm. She looked up, and his cold, hazel eyes met her own war-ridden ones. She dropped down on bent knee, head bowed and she set the heart before her.  
     Caesar took a breath, but paused to think before he spoke. The silence was heavy, the tension thick, and he spoke, "Maxime Occultas."  
     "My lord, Caesar." She echoed his address.  
     Both Vulpes and Maxime knew why Caesar was so formal, he'd just realize, and he held his breath— he now knew Maxime was a woman, her binding had come off, and there was no doubt in Vulpes' mind his lord would take her head on a pike. She'd be crucified. Fed to the dogs. Possibilities raced through his mind, and dread filled his form.  
     "You have proven yourself the victor and more than worthy of being the second in command of my frumentarii. You keep your post. Tonight, you and your leader frumentarius, Vulpes, will dine with me, we shall celebrate your victory." He announced, and the legion cheered— aside from Vulpes, who kept his stoic face, yet let his breath escape him, finally.  
     "I thank you, my lord Caesar." Maxime bowed her head again, "It is an honour to fight for you."  
     "And it is an honour to have you fight for me, Occultas."

—

     "So, How long have you known?" Before the feast, Caesar asked for an audience with Vulpes and Maxime, themselves. Lucius stood beside Caesar on his right, and now Legate Lanius took his left.  
     "Five years." Vulpes stood straight as a pole across from Caesar, while Maxime bowed on bent knee to him, silently listening, "The battle against Maxime's tribe was when I was told of his identity."  
     "Her identity," Caesar corrected. He then paused, thinking, "Who else is aware, Maxime?" He addressed her directly.  
     She did not lift her head, but spoke, "The legion's Frumentarii, my lord. That is all."  
      Caesar nodded, "I see... it has been a secret amongst spies... I should've suspected..." he lay his forehead in one hand, tapping his other hand's fingers against the arm of his throne.  
     "This is the only thing we frumentarii have kept from you, my lord," Vulpes averted his eyes, looking to the cut that still had yet to be bandaged that ran down the length of the back of Maxime's forearm, "I beg your forgiveness."  
"Please, my lord, I am faithful only to you— if you must punish us," Maxime looked up to meet Caesar's disapproving gaze, "Crucify me with the profligates for my sins— leave Vulpes and the frumentarii untouched, it is my fault."  
Caesar clenched his eyes shut, hard in concentration, "for your actions... you will..." he couldn't seem to think, but simply waved his hand in dismissal, "you'll receive your punishment tomorrow, I'll think on it through the night. Until then," he dismissed them with a simple gesture, and Vulpes had practically dragged Maxime behind himself as he helped her from Caesar's tent all the way to his own, she couldn't walk on her own, but he wished for her not to be seen in such a state.

     "You are— you are badly wounded." Was the first thing to escape Vulpes when they entered the tent alone, his fingertips traced the cut along her cheek, the other one swelling from the hit.  
     "My injuries will not kill me, my leader, I will survive." She had braced herself on the table, before, but as soon as she meant to take a step, she'd very nearly fallen.  
      Vulpes caught her immediately, "They may not kill you, but, perhaps you will do it yourself, in this state." He offered a smile, a joke. And she gave a slight laugh as he gently lifted her and carried her to his bed. He stooped, studying her leg, "I am... no medic, but I think you've broken your leg."  
     "I'm sure it is only hurt, nothing serious." Maxime shrugged it off, earning a glare from Vulpes.  
     "You've broken it, and if I need to get someone with medical training to prove it, I'll scour the desert to do so— your throat and cheek are swelling, your arm and other cheek got cut, and Atilius may have given you a concussion." Vulpes laid his hand on Maxime's unswollen cheek, and she pushed her head into his hand, sighing.  
"I am fine, my leader, you've no need to worry about me," Maxime gave him a slight smile, "There's no necessity to cross the Mojave to find me a doctor."  
"There's quite the necessity, Maxime. You're the best of my frumentarii and the one person I hold dearest to my heart." He placed his forehead to hers, sighing, "I couldn't bare to lose you."  
"I cannot imagine why, you're the strongest leader the legion has—below lord Caesar." Maxime chuckled, "You could thrive and keep the legion alive all on your own."  
"I couldn't bare to lose you because I don't believe I could live without you," he sighed, "I love you, more than you could possibly know, Maxime."  
"You—?" Her eyes widened— she never really considered that her superior could harbor feelings for her, and perhaps thats why he tolerated all that she did.  
"And now that Lord Caesar knows of your identity, we can get married, my love." His voice remained monotonous, as per usual, but he gave the slightest hint of a smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  
"Perhaps," she grew quiet, "It is..." she picked her words carefully, "A wistful dream, Vulpes— but... I’m afraid...”  
“Lord Caesar would be happy for our union— you’d be my second-in-command and my wife. Though you may not bare children you will bare this empire’s future alongside me.” Vulpes ran his hand over her short hair, yet Maxime did not bristle at his touch.  
“My leader, I— I think...” she paused, searching, “I’ve never thought of you in such a light, I’m afraid.”  
Vulpes’ heart dropped.  
“I’ll need some time to consider this relationship, Vulpes. I— I’m not sure where my own heart lies in this.” She breathed, “Yet, if you truly wish to marry me there is nothing stopping you from forcing—”  
“Silence.” He commanded, making Maxime stop in fear, “I would never force you to marry me or do anything you wouldn’t do of your own free will. You are my equal, despite Caesar’s view on women, and I will always know you to be such. It is your decision.” He placed one hand on her cheek, “Take all the time you need to decide, Maxime. I will not pressure nor deny you of this.”  
Maxime smiled, pushing her cheek into his hand, “I thank you, my fox.... perhaps... I do need a doctor, first.”  
Vulpes gave a quiet chuckle, “I’ll fetch the Nurse Asa for you, at once.”  
“Please.” Maxime grimaced.

Caesar did not punish Vulpes and allowed Maxime to keep her position under the allowance that they keep this identity a secret outside of the frumentarii and Caesar.  
After the battle of the Hoover Dam, in which, the Legion was victorious with the aide of the Courier; Maxime and Vulpes wed and Maxime kept her identity as both Vulpes’ wife and second in command, making her the second highest in command and the only woman to enter battle for Caesar.  
Sometime after Lucius assumed the throne alongside his wife, women were drafted into the legion and its size grew and prospered, and it became the holy empire Caesar had set it to be. And all was prosperous.


End file.
